You Only Live Once: The Grand Prix Banquet of Gold
by HMS Siren
Summary: Prompt: "Jeez, if sleeping with Victor Nikiforov set you off that bad, then I'm not sure you want to see the pictures everyone took."[Secret Santa Gift for @schememinemily] [Rated T for suggestive themes] [One-Shot]


**A/N:**

 **Hails: This is LONG overdue, and I need to apologize to Emily for that. It's her Secret Santa gift that I was supposed to have in by Christmas, and I just have to thank the beautiful YOISS managers for tolerating my incompetence.**

 **This story is an AU. Victor took Yuuri back to his hotel room and Yuuri, still drunk, got a little frisky with Victor and let's just say there was a lot of clothes being removing and Yuuri moaning, only turning Victor on even more.**

 **Anyway, here you go Emily. Enjoy.**

* * *

Yuuri stretched, his muscles creaked and groaned as he reached his arms above his head. He yawned loudly and absently arched his back off the bed. He squinted his eyes and felt around for his glasses. He couldn't really see anything without them — maybe this is why Coach Celestino suggested he wear contacts instead. I mean, if he lost one, he could always replace it, even if it could be expensive. And at least he'd be able to see out one eye clearly if that were the case.

Yuuri reached over to the nightstand, figuring that's where his specs would be, but he only found his phone. Well, he'd still be able to see something, so he might as well turn it on. He glanced at the screen, finding a plethora of news and text messages, mostly from Phichit who had come to cheer him for the Grand Prix Final — the one he so screwed up and was forced to revel in absolute misery after earning sixth place.

The time on his phone read 10:00. It was rather early, and it was only just now that he became aware of the splitting headache that made him grind his teeth together. His whole body, joints, muscles, and bones, ached — particularly his ass. _Whaaaat happened?_

He unlocked his phone, figuring he better call the first person he figured would know everything that happened last night. To him, it was all a blur. He remembered that Coach Celestino dragged him to the banquet and he drank quite a bit of champagne to the point that he blacked out. He found the contact on speed dial. He placed his phone up to his ear and heard it ring; once, twice, click-

"Ciao, this is Phichit Chulanont!"

"Erm… hey, Phichit." Yuuri in a soft voice laced with uncertainty.

"Yuuri!" Phichit's voice filtered through the speaker. He sounded happy, relieved almost. "Oh, my gosh. I tried calling you last night after the banquet but you wouldn't pick up. I just had to assume you were being taken care of! Where are you? Are you okay!"

"Um… well, I thought I was back at our hotel room, but I guess I'm not." Yuuri tried explaining. "I can't find my glasses, so I can't really see. What happened last night?"

"I don't really know." Phichit's voice sounded sheepish and unsure, not something Yuuri wanted to hear from his usually upbeat and confident friend. There were sounds of the phone shifting and Phichit mumbling a: "Hang on, let me ask Ciao Ciao."

There was some considerate muttering and a few minutes later, Yuuri could hear Phichit laughing — Yuuri could picture his best friend bent over, clutching his stomach with jewel-like tears rolling down his cheeks in utter bliss.

"Oh, holy-" Phichit huffed through some unceremonious giggles. "Wow, that must've been a sight to behold, I wish I would've been there to see it first hand! Because I don't know if I believe it."

"I was there, Phichit." Celestino's voice was barely heard through the speaker. "It happened, you better believe it."

"Phichit." Yuuri suddenly went stern. "What happened?"

"Okay, get this! Apparently, you got drunk off sixteen glasses of champagne and went completely off the rails!" Yuuri's face paled at the explanation — Oh, Lord. Sixteen glasses of champagne? He had inherited his dad's ability to go positively, irresponsibly wild when he was black out drunk. "A few of the skaters took pictures, even. You challenged the Russian Punk to a dance off and won! Then you did the same with Christophe Giacometti, except on a stripper pole, half naked! Glad we took that pole dancing class in college yet?"

Yuuri stopped listening as Phichit rattled on and on about all the crazy things he'd done last night. Black out drunk? Dance battles? Stripper poles? Oh, no. Victor Nikiforov had been there. He'd only made himself look absolutely more of a fool than he did after massacring himself during the GPF. He honestly felt ridiculous and tears of pure horror began welling up in his eyes. His cheeks were tinged a soft red in embarrassment as he placed a hand over his mouth to stop an incoming sob.

 _I messed up. I messed up so badly. After failing to meet Victor on the same ice as my rival, I only confirmed that'd I'm incompetent and undependable._

"Wait, there's more! After winning that dance battle, you were so completely floored the Victor Nikiforov decided he'd take you back to our hotel room, but Ciao Ciao says you lost your room key while you were drunk, so I'm guessing that must be where you are. In Victor's hotel room!"

"Victor's?" Yuuri stiffened and did a quick sweep over of the room, turning his head left and right with wide, innocent eyes as if waiting to see the skating legend himself bundled up on the other bed or drinking coffee, but, he was nowhere to be seen. "Why on Earth would Victor-" Yuuri froze mid-sentence after doing a once-over of the quarters, only to find that he was… sharing a bed… with Victor Nikiforov. "Phichit… He's right here… in the same bed I am…"

"Wait, what?" Phichit asked carefully. "Let me get this straight. You're sharing a bed with Victor? Like, right now? This very moment?"

"Yes. Right now." Yuuri affirmed in a panicky, breathy tone that suggested he was going to have a panic attack at any given moment. "This explains so much, like why I'm aching all over, especially on my… oh, no. I think… Phichit, I think I may have had sex with Victor."

"EEEEH?!" Phichit's ungodly screeching resonated through the hotel room, forcing Yuuri to place a hand over the speaker. "But, but, but, oh, my goooooooosh. Yuuri, do you realize what this means?! Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, Yuuri, way to score!"

"You sound way too happy about this."

"Of course I'm happy, Yuuri!" Phichit confirmed his eager emotions. "Why aren't you? Didn't you get what you wanted?"

"NO." Yuuri protested. "This is horrible. Oh, my gosh. I don't remember anything. This must be my punishment. Not remembering a single thing! I screwed up. I have screwed up in the most distasteful, inhumane way possible. Victor doesn't deserve this!"

"Jeez, if sleeping with Victor Nikiforov set you off that bad, then I'm not sure you want to see the pictures everyone took."

The sound of the springy mattress creaking and the downy duvet shifting made Yuuri turn his head. Victor stretched and yawned, eyes as blue and cold as Ice from Russia fluttering open.

"Oh, someone woke up before I did." Victor purred lovingly — he absently, gingerly pushed a strand of hair from Yuuri's face to get a better look at the melting, swirling chocolate that made up Yuuri's irises. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

There was utter silence for a few second. Yuuri nor Phichit, who could hear everything from his end of the phone, said a word. Yuuri was stiff, not knowing how to respond to the intimate gesture. Instead, he spoke quickly to Phichit in order to avoid any unnecessary awkwardness.

"Phichit, I've gotta call you back."

"Good luck, Yuuri! I'll send you pic-" Beep!

Yuuri released his phone, causing it cascade to the hotel's cheap, tacky carpeting.

"You…" Yuuri trailed off. "Y-you're Victor Nikiforov."

Victor chuckled with an amused smile playing on his heart-shaped lips. "Someone's a little slow on the uptake."

Yuuri swallowed. He didn't even know where to begin with describing his unique situation — lying side by side with Victor, on a nice mattress, in his hotel room, after spending last night at the GPF banquet utterly wasted. Another realization donned upon Yuuri as he comprehended just how dire the conditions he was in. He'd have to tell Victor that he didn't remember a single damn thing.

Yuuri couldn't help but flinch away a bit when Victor reached over to him, gently caressing his cheek, before moving to his neck, collarbone, and chest, finally ending at his waist. "Last night was fun. I've never felt more alive than that." Yuuri tried not to squeak when Victor shifted and pulled Yuuri into a spoon cuddle. Victor's arms were wrapped around his stomach in a firm, but gentle hold. His husky voice sounded sensual and tired, and his bedroom eyes were sure signs that Yuuri knew what had happened last night. He felt his stomach flop. His vision started swimming, more so than without his glasses. A wave of nausea crashed into him and he felt bile rise in his throat. It didn't take long for Yuuri to figure out that that nervous feeling wasn't anxiety.

His breath was shallow, and he repeatedly tapped Victor's arm to get his attention, almost trying to pry Victor's hold from his waist.

"I've gotta go." Yuuri slurred, but his words were just coherent enough to make Victor's eyes widen.

"Eh, but why?" Victor queried curiously. "I mean, we just-"

"No, I have to go," Yuuri emphasized. "I need the bathroom. Now. NOW."

Yuuri scrambled from Victor's hold and toppled to the floor, dragging the sheets with him. He scrambled to the bathroom, leaving a rather baffled and hurt Victor behind. Yuuri positioned his head over the porcelain bowl and retched. He hadn't eaten much, thank God, but the acidic bile left a vile, bitter taste in his mouth that burned his throat. Yuuri's muscles locked up as he tried not to lose anymore of what was in his stomach, but his stomach still lurched and he couldn't help but dry heave.

"Oi, are you alright?" Yuuri's head shot up, causing a shot of pain to pang in his forehead. Victor was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, appearing concerned. And… both of them were stark naked. Victor walked forward and placed a hand on Yuuri's head. "You're running a fever, and you don't look so well. Too much champagne, perhaps. Hahahaha…"

Yuuri didn't stiffen at the touch this time. He was far too exhausted to really think about it, but Victor's hand was so warm. And he seemed so sincere.

"Erm…" Yuuri trailed off. He stood up and tried not to look like he was self-conscious of himself. "I'm… I'm gonna take a shower. Would you mind, terribly?"

"Ah, not at all." Victor didn't seem offended in the slightest. "I'll see if I can find you a robe, I'm sure you'd like one."

"Yes, that would be nice."

Victor left, closing the door behind him. Yuuri took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before Victor popped back in: "Do you want your phone?"

"Yes, please!"

Once Yuuri was sure he was alone, he turned the water to the shower on. It would take a few minutes to heat up, so Yuuri stood there nervously, shuffling his bare feet on the cold tile. He rocked back and forth and tried not to look down for fear of worsening his horrible migraine.

 _Did Victor and I really go that far?_ Yuuri wondered as he stepped into the shower. He stood there, underneath the spray of water, as he tried to think about how he would confront the living legend himself about the situation — an apology was definitely due. The water soaked Yuuri's hair, causing the dark strands to fall limp into his face. He raked his fingers through his hair and pulled it back in his usual skating style; similar to that of his formal slicked back tresses on the ice. _Whatever the case… He deserves the truth. I just, need to be careful._

 _Beep! Beep!_

Yuuri stiffened and reached the rack he was balancing his phone on to see a whole new slew of picture texts from Phichit. Yuuri opened them up and scrolled through them. Phichit had been indeed telling the truth. There he was, appearing absolutely ridiculous as he danced alongside the Russian Punk, then half naked on a pole with Chris Giacometti, and then… wait, he didn't remember hearing about this. A dance off with Victor? Were they doing the Flamenco?

When Yuuri finished his shower, he opened the curtain a snatched a towel off the rack. As he dried his hair, he noted that there was a clean robe, folded neatly and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat. Along with it, there was a bottle of energizer and a note: "Just in case." Yuuri removed the cap on the energizer and downed the contents of the plastic bottle while he struggled to multitask and don the robe. The liquid was sweet and tasted something fruity. He wiped his mouth upon finishing and tossed the bottle in the trash can.

Just as he was about to leave, his hand froze over the doorknob. If he left now, he'd have to face the truth. He'd have to let Victor know, and as painful as the truth sounded, as ugly as it was, Victor didn't deserve anything less. The sooner he knew, the better. With a deep breath, Yuuri the door open and tried not to look shameful whilst making his way over to the twin beds. Victor was adorned in his own robe. Yuuri seated himself on the opposite bed so he could face Victor.

"Ah, you took quite a while." Victor smiled seductively. Yuuri felt his cheeks light up, and suddenly he was hot all over again. "Though I shouldn't blame you, last night was rather exhilarating."

"Yes, I suppose it was," Yuuri stated carefully. Now or never, he thought. "Listen, Victor. Can I call you that?"

"Certainly, I don't see why not."

"Okay. Victor, about last night…" Yuuri trailed off. He swallowed, noting how Victor's smile faded into a frown. "I… I was blackout drunk. I don't remember anything at all, from last night. Not the banquet, not that I got drunk, and not that we ever… I don't know. I really don't. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Just… don't get close to me. I'm absolutely horrible, I'm only going to-"

Victor seized Yuuri's hands, his ice blue eyes connecting with Yuuri's gleaming, brown irises as he came close, their foreheads touching.

"Don't speak of yourself like that!" Victor hissed. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I-"

"But what?" Victor interrupted Yuuri's protests. "I should've expected you wouldn't remember anything. You were drunk beyond measure."

"You can't be so forgiving of that!" Yuuri tried to point out. "Any normal person wouldn't! How can you! You, you're Victor Nikiforov. You shouldn't, I, oh my-"

Yuuri was cutoff again, this time by Victor's amused chuckling.

"Maybe we should start over." Victor sat back on the mattress with a smile, somehow reverting back to his nonchalant demeanor. Yuuri didn't understand at first what exactly it was Victor was implying, but his next words caused Yuuri to nod in agreement. "I'm Victor Nikiforov. Five-time Grand Prix Final World Champion. Russia's Top Figure Skater."

Yuuri thought about what to say, and then words came spilling from his mouth.

"I'm Yuuri Katsuki. I'm one of the dime a dozen figure skaters certified by the JSF. It's nice to meet you."


End file.
